


Filters & Froyo

by payneful_chonce



Category: Little Mix (Band), One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:44:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/payneful_chonce/pseuds/payneful_chonce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jade, a famous heartbroken photographer, gets lost while walking on the streets of New York (taking pictures of course) and bumps into Perrie, a famous cook who mends Jade's heart and falls for her. Things get complicated when Jade met Harry and Perrie meets Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Filters & Froyo

Black & White. Nothing else.   
That’s how I take my photographs now, because I’ve just realized that there’s not really anything in the world that has true color, not even through filters. You come into the world, live a meaningless life and leave just when you get to the good part. Just like people in relationships. They come into your life, blindside you, knock you off your feet, make you fall for them, and simply leave you alone in the dark in your weakest moment because they simply think it isn’t worth it. That you aren’t worth it. And maybe, just maybe, it’s the truth. Maybe I’m not worth it. 

I am tired of this place, I hope people change  
I need time to replace what I gave away

I rub at my eyes and shove my Leica back into its pouch. Somehow my clients want street photographs and to be honest I don’t get why I’m even known throughout the industry. I’ve stopped having people model for me ever since It happened, and people eat it up even more. Nothing’s my best work anymore in my opinion - it’s just black and white, black and white. And shades of gray.   
My friends say that I’ve faded into a faded replica of the person I was before. But don’t people expect that from artists? To be all broody, dark, things like that.   
I’m not trying to live up to everyone’s standards. I’m tired of it. I’m tired of people walking out of my life like I mean absolutely nothing.   
My pictures are meaningless too. They’re of people running past me at rush hour, trying to get to work on time. Faces blurred, out of focus; spray paint on walls, going on and on. BROKEN. INSANE. BRING ON THE MADNESS.   
But my clients like my work and that’s all that matters. And that’s exactly why I’m standing here, in the Big Apple of all places, with skyscrapers towering all around me as I look around consciously. I don’t belong, the girl with the dyed gray hair and concealed camera standing amidst a sea of rushing people and unknown features. I do not belong.   
I’m a black cloud standing out amongst a tide of sweaty faces and bright clothes. And even though I don’t fit in, I’m swept away by the wave of hurriedness, of adrenaline, of excitement. Passing by a park, I snap a few shots of a homeless man that I will surely delete later. He raises his head and waves a fist at me, screaming at me to fuck off.   
I do. Afraid that he will somehow come after me, I take off, my camera thumping against my leg as I push past several pedestrians. Through the winding alleys, the wide streets.   
And it’s not long before I realize that I’m lost.   
And the first thing you do when you’re lost is to ask for help like a normal person who belongs. So, as a Normal Person Who Fits In, I turn to the nearest person and tap her shoulder, planning to ask for directions back to my hotel. But, I haven’t even gotten a word in before she shoves me hard with her shoulder unintentionally and hurries off. The question dies in my mouth as I stare at her retreating figure, and I drop my hand to my side.   
These people are busier than I thought.   
“Hey, you lost?”   
I turn around to say yes, but the words die in my throat once again because the person in front of me is well, attractive to say the least. But her glossy blonde hair, straight nose and blue eyes remind me of her and I won’t let anybody remind me of her.   
So, I avert my gaze and stare at the ground. Even though her bright blue eyes remind me of the soft filter I used to always put on my photos before she left me.   
Aside from the fact that she looks like my ex, there’s something familiar about her that I can’t put my finger on.   
“What?”   
“I can tell when someone’s lost in this big city, babe.”   
“Leave me alone,” I say. I don’t need to mess around with someone like her, someone who calls a stranger “babe.” I know her type. They walk into your life and walk back out without giving a shit about you.   
“What’s the name of your hotel?” She ignores my barbed comment, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips. They are very pink, and I frown at myself. Normally I try not to notice these details about people because it’s what I used to do when people modelled for me.   
“It’s Go The Fuck Away.”   
“Are you always this antagonistic?” she asks.   
I stop short, eye her suspiciously. What is she insinuating? “What are you-”   
“Relax, relax, I’m joking, jeez,” she laughs. I stare at this intriguing person again, fascinated in the way she laughs. Like how she throws her head back, her hair flopping in her face, and lets out that giggle, full of joy and carelessness like she doesn’t have a worry in the whole wide world. Which brings me back to reality - why am I still talking to her? As if reading my mind, she says, “I want to help.”   
“What’s in it for you? If you want money, you can leave me the fuck alone.” I say, flooded with unpleasant memories.   
“I get to help. Which makes me happy.” she grins. I notice that she has a dimple in her cheek which pops out nicely when she smiles.   
“Do you ever stop smiling?”   
“No.” Her grin widens. “Come on, tell me the name of your hotel.”   
I sigh, giving in. She seems genuine enough, and I do need help. I tell her the name of my hotel, and she immediately seems surprised if not shocked.   
“I work there.”   
“So, you’re helping me because you work there and want money,” I summarize and see the quick flash of frustration on her face. Well, she can go fuck herself with my opinions because I’ve had enough people stepping over me already.   
“No, I mean that I live there for now. There’s a banquet in a few weeks and I’m being hired as the main chef.”   
“Main chef,” I repeat, almost disbelievingly. Is she kidding me?   
“Yes babe,” she says, the frustration already gone from her face, replaced by the same blinding smile.   
“Do I know you?” Now that I think of it, I think I know of her. If she’s who I think she is. That face….that’s why she seems familiar. That face has graced the cover of many magazines. Magazines that have my own work displayed on there. “You’re- You’re-”   
“Perrie Edwards,” she says, flashing me another smile.   
“Chef extraordinaire,” I continue for her.   
Perrie shrugs with one shoulder. “Well, I wouldn’t say so.”   
“You’re a five star chef for God’s sake.”   
She shrugs again and waves down a cab, suddenly nonchalant. We get into the car without any further conversation, and she tells the driver where to go. As we speed past all the buildings, I start to picture them in my head, like what filters I can use to make them come out perfect. “So, you’re Jade Thirlwall, aren’t you?”   
I jerk out of my thoughts. “How do you know?”   
“The world isn’t as big as you’d think. I have connections, you know, it’s pure coincidence that we met though. Aren’t you the moody photographer that takes photos of weird stuff?”   
“I don’t think so, Edwards,” I say, letting a smirk drift onto my face for the first time in weeks. Yes, it’s a weird feeling but - I feel more alive when I have in months. It’s exciting and new and everything that’s unfamiliar. “I mean, it feels like it’s not just coincidental.”   
“What do you mean?” A confused expression flits across her face. I study her features, noticing how they’re sculpted perfectly. As if she could really be a model. For a painter, perhaps, because she doesn’t have the body requirements for a model. Still, I have the feeling that she’d look much better with this body than that of a model.   
I should stop thinking about Perrie, whom I’ve just met about ten minutes ago. It’s distracting me and I can’t afford to be distracted. “The banquet you were talking about? I think I’m going to be attending it too.”   
……  
Perrie’s mouth drops. “Are you serious?”   
I shrug. “My employers want me to. Think it’d be good for the relationships with the clients. Useless if you ask me.”   
Is it my imagination or do I see Perrie blushing? “Well, I’d better whip up something good then.”   
“You’d better.” My eyes zoom in on those lips again. What the fuck is wrong with me? It must be my fucking memory, reminding me of her. The gold digger. Fuck her. Fuck her. The words echo in my head, useless, empty. I resist burying my head in my hands. It’s obvious that I’m still not over her, regardless of how much she’s used me and tossed me away like I’m a useless rag doll. Regardless of how I kept falling for her fool’s gold.   
It’s not long before the cab pulls up at the entrance of the hotel, and the driver helps us out. “So, tell me, how did you even find me? Out of all of those people?” I’m not so hostile towards her anymore. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s not befriending me for my wealth, which is a nice change.   
Perrie walks beside me as we head into the lobby. Her strides are longer than mine and I have to walk faster in order to catch up. “I was just walking around, actually. Sightseeing. Then I saw you who just looked entirely lost and I thought I’d help out.”   
“Well, that’s good for me, I guess,” I say hesitantly. My mouth forms the unfamiliar words. “Thank you. I think.”   
“You didn’t have to add the last part,” Perrie giggles, then holds up her hands when I turn around to scowl at her. “Don’t take the joke so hard, it’s not a dick.”   
Her vulgar language startles me, and my eyes widen. Her cheeks flush red. “Um, I’m sorry. I guess I….forgot I was in polite company.”   
“You don’t have a filter, do you,” I chuckle. And again that surprises me because I haven’t chuckled in ages. (I hate the word chuckle. But in this case I guess that’s the sound I made). “And it’s fine.”  
Perrie stops for a moment, then nods quickly as if shaking herself out of a trance. Tactfully, she switches the topic. “Where do you live?”   
“In this hotel,” I say.   
She rolls her eyes and nudges me with her shoulder. “Seriously, I mean where in this hotel.”   
“In my hotel room,” I grin.   
What am I doing? Why am I so cheery and smiley all of a sudden? I’m not supposed to be bantering with some random blonde I don’t even know. I’m supposed to be taking aesthetic shots of something dark and moody. I rip that smile off my face. I cannot afford to get hurt again.  
And my hopes, they are high, I must keep them small  
Before Perrie can reply again, I shoot a brief reply at her. “Room 74732.”   
Her eyebrows furrow as if she’s trying to figure out my sudden mood change. “Why are you-”   
“Don’t bother walking me up,” I say. “Thanks.”   
Though I try to resist I still want it all….   
I feel her gaze burning holes into my back as I jab the elevator button with my thumb. And when the elevator doors close behind me, I can still see her bright blue eyes. Drilling holes into my soul.   
…..  
It’s not even a few days until I see her, at the park near the hotel. I’m walking around with my Leica hanging out of its pouch again, taking random snapshots of people walking around when I see Perrie. She’s sitting alone on a bench with a brown paper bag in her hands, tossing bread crumbs at birds which are flocking around her in excitement.   
I try to walk away quickly without her noticing, but somehow I end up drifting towards her. Somehow, I end up sitting next to her on the plain brown bench. She lifts her head and smiles brightly when she sees me. “Hey! Didn’t expect to see ya here.”   
I almost flinch in surprise. I’d expect her to chase me off or something after my standoffish attitude a few days ago. Most people would. But I pretend that everything’s fine, and I smile back. It exhausts my face muscles. “Same.” I sit there and watch her feed the birds in silence.   
“So, what are you doing tomorrow? Taking more weird photos?” Her voice is more quiet now, almost careful. And I can see her staring at me through the corner of my eye. I can tell that she doesn’t want me to notice, but I do. I notice things. A lot of them, like how her teeth are worrying at her lower lip now. You can stop staring at her now, Thirlwall.   
I rip my eyes away from her with effort and take a deep breath. I seriously cannot be attracted to this sort of person who flirts with everyone and smiles at everyone and in conclusion, is bad for me. “Probably.”   
“Well, if you could spare the time, maybe we could take a walk around here, grab some good coffee. Would be fun.”   
I should have said no but my head nods of its own accord and stupid words fall out of my mouth. “Coffee. Yeah. Coffee….is good. Would be good, I mean.” I want to kick myself because this is not what I usually say. My brain must be malfunctioning because of the humidity or something. I don’t know. But it has nothing to do with Perrie Edwards.   
She giggles and gives me another smile.   
“Can you stop smiling,” I say. Which doesn’t make sense because her smile is actually amongst the only ones that are aimed at me. People don’t smile at me a lot.   
“Why not?” She stands up and grabs my hand before I can tug it away. “It makes you happy. It makes me happy. Win-win.”   
And maybe, just maybe, she’s right.   
…..  
My bell rings at approximately 8:30 A.M. the next morning. I rub at my eyes as I open the door, realizing too late that I always only sleep in shorts and a sports bra. “What are - Oh. Um, hi.”   
And there she is. Perrie Edwards. Fully dressed, with her blonde hair styled to perfection, dressed in cutoffs and an off shoulder blouse that make her look beautiful. And I’m saying this from an objective view, of course. She’s probably not that pretty….Stop kidding yourself, of course she is. Now shut up and stop gaping and go get changed.   
“Hey,” she said breathlessly. Her cheeks are red, and I don’t know why. It’s probably the fact that I’m only dressed in a sports bra, shorts and nothing else.   
“Um, sorry. I’ll go get dressed. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Not that there’s anything left anyway.” I cannot believe how good of a host I am.   
Note the fucking sarcasm.   
I quickly escape before she can say anything else, pull a rumpled dress over my body, and shove a hat over my brown hair to hide how messy it is. “Let’s go,” I say almost too brightly. Perrie is already sipping on a can of beer. Probably the last one left in the minifridge. “Alcohol this early in the morning?”   
Perrie shrugs and smiles at me. “I’m not that much of a lightweight.” She follows me out of the door and dumps the can in the trash. “Where to?”   
“Hey, you’re the tour guide, you decide.” Remembering my vow to not get stepped over again, I pull the smile from my face and put on a neutral expression.   
Her eyebrows furrow again. She’s going to get a permanent crease if she keeps doing that. “Froyo?”   
“Froyo it is, then.”   
We end up getting froyo at the shop a few blocks down from the hotel. Then we take a walk around the park. It’s weird because my face keeps pulling into a smile whenever she talks to me, and I can’t seem to make it stop.   
“So, tell me why you’re always smiling,” I say as we walk over a bridge. There are ducks. Lots of them, with white feathers. Squawking, flapping their wings. She turns around and grabs my hand. Laughs. Swings them back and forth.   
“Tell me why you’re always frowning, then.”   
“Well,” I reply, “doesn’t it feel better that way? When you’re so permanently unhappy, nothing can really surprise you anymore? When nothing can step over you anymore?”   
Perrie shrugs and beams at me again. “Maybe I just want to be surprised.”   
Perrie Edwards is fifty percent smiles and fifty percent shrugs. Awfully naive for someone her age. Twenty-two. She should be fresh out of college, but from what I have heard, she was recruited for some cooking reality show or something. I tell myself that I don’t care. That she’s just a mere acquaintance.   
“Surprised, how?” I say flatly. I can’t help it.   
I still remember when Taylor wanted everything at once. Money, clothes, connections. She just didn’t want me.   
For fuck’s sake, just stop thinking about her.   
“Well, for example, meeting new people! You can’t exactly grimace and frown at them all day with that pretty face. Hey, do you like curry?”   
I tell my stupid face to stop blushing and look up at her. “Um, depends.”   
“Well, I know a real good restaurant around here that serves sick curry. You wanna come along?”   
Everything is going so fast when I talk to her, it’s hard to keep track of anything anymore. I nod. Like a bobblehead.   
…..  
And wow. It’s only been two months but I already find myself thinking about Perrie Edwards of all people, more than my ex. Already she’s pulled me in her weird orbit. It’s like she’s the sun, and I’m just planet Earth circling around her without meaning to. She’s so bright. And popular. I’m dark; the only reason people still talk to me is probably because of my work. But Perrie’s different. She talks to me because she wants to.   
I wasn’t supposed to be staying in NYC for two months. I was supposed to leave right after the banquet, but Perrie needed a flatmate. And not surprisingly I agreed, because I agree with everything she says.   
Perrie cooks better than I thought at first. The banquet was marvelous. The thought of Perrie in a curve-hugging black dress brings a smile to my face. All eyes were on her during that particular dinner. But, her eyes were only on me.   
Or the numerous hangouts we’ve been on, I smile at her more and more every time. I feel compelled to call them dates, but they aren’t. Sometimes we talk, about things that don’t make sense. And we talk about things that do. 

I see swimming pools and living rooms and aeroplanes  
I see a little house on the hill and children's names  
I see quiet nights poured over ice and Tanqueray

It’s too late. I’ve fallen for Perrie Edwards - smiler, flirter - and it’s all my fault. Because she has a new boyfriend now. Louis. Louis Tomlinson, who’s only a bit taller than she is, with feathery brown hair and thin lips and green-blue eyes like the ocean. They go everywhere together.   
Louis has a best mate. He’s tall. Towers over me. But he always wears these flowery shirts that make me think he’s gay. Also he has long hair that might be even prettier than mine is. His name’s Harry, and he’s so unbelievably charismatic. Sometimes I think I find myself staring at him before my gaze drifts back to Louis and Perrie, those lovebirds.   
But everything is shattering and it's my mistake  
It’s not as if I can speak up and tell Perrie. For fuck’s sake she probably only talks to me because she feels sorry for me. She’s like….my only friend. Oh God that sounds desperate.   
Usually Perrie makes me third wheel their dates unless Louis invites Harry, calling it a “double date” when in reality they’re the only ones in their little bubble. Harry does flirt with me a lot but I don’t think his heart is in it.   
Like tonight. We’re on one of those weird double dates again, in the back of the theater. I’m sitting beside Perrie, and Harry’s beside me. Louis is holding Perrie’s hand and my eyes keep trailing towards their entwined fingers like it’s a fucking spotlight. I just can’t focus on the stupid fucking movie -   
And then they’re snogging right next to me. I cringe and move closer to Harry, not wanting to exist right there next to them because I just can’t stand it. I can’t stand seeing Perrie, Perrie Edwards who met me first, snog her boyfriend.   
Only fools fall for you, only fools  
Only fools do what I do, only fools fall  
“Third-wheeling ain’t fun, is it,” Harry whispered.   
“It isn’t,” I whisper back. His curls tickle my cheek.  
His hand finds mine in the dark, over the armrest. His fingers are long, impossible long and his skin is warm. He squeezes my hand. An unspoken message passes between us. And I know.   
He is in love with Louis.   
…..  
“You can be a model,” I say randomly as Perrie switches on the oven dial. We’re baking cookies, and she’s dressed in an apron that says Kiss The Cook. And I do want to kiss her. I want to see if her lips taste like that strawberry lip gloss she always uses. Her blonde hair is up in a ponytail today and strands of it frame her face perfectly. They fall forward when she leans over to check if the time is set right and I resist tucking them back.   
She lifts her head, pleasantly surprised. “Well, thanks. But, I’m not fit enough.”   
“Your face could work,” I say thoughtfully. She would look good in white clothes against a black background. Or, she’d look good in anything. “It’s a pretty face.”   
She blushes. Ducks her head. “Why don’t you take pictures of people anymore? Is it because of something that happened?”   
Normally Perrie doesn’t ask about my personal life. We may be friends, we may be good friends but I can tell that she’s afraid about me shutting her out. It’s happened too many times but somehow I always come back to apologize. And that’s the important thing.  
“Maybe it’s someone who happened,” I mutter darkly.   
She furrows her brows once again. “What?”   
And somehow I know that this is the time to tell her. I can’t hold it back anymore. I tell her. About Taylor and her short sharp blonde bob and her sharp blue eyes and her sharp jaw. About how Taylor wanted everything at once, except that she just didn’t want me. When my manic depression kicked in, she left, leaving me in the darkness with no one. She used to model for me. (She was a good model. Tall and sharp, finely drawn, like Perrie.) Now no one does because I don’t want them to.   
I still take antidepressants. They help.   
Silence is what greets me when I finish. Perrie’s eyes are wide, as if she hadn't expected me to have some sort of backstory. “Oh,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. No one should be treated like that.” She crosses over the counter and wraps her arms around me.   
She smells like strawberries.   
I smile.   
The oven dings suddenly, and Perrie jerks away from me, quickly getting the cookies out before they cool. I start to reach for one, but she pushes my hand away gently. “Decorations first, babe.”  
It reminds me of her and Louis. Nothing pleasant. 

Oh, our lives don't collide, I'm aware of this  
The differences and impulses and your obsession with the little things

She is obsessed with the little things, isn’t she? Like where the gumdrops go on the cookies. And she keeps stressing about how she prefers chocolate cookies instead of plain ones like me.   
The cookies are cold when I finally get to them.   
…..  
Perrie wants to model for me.   
She says she’ll do it if I don’t mind. Of course I don’t mind. Not when it comes to her.   
Something is different about her today. She’s...bluer, I guess. She’s wearing blue all over and it’s not just her clothes. Something about her just seems down. “What happened?” I say because I am a Person Who Doesn’t Run Circles Around Things.   
“What, what happened?” Perrie says. She smiles but not with the upper part of her face. She only smiled with her mouth, not her eyes. Usually she smiles with everything.   
“You don’t have to lie to me. I know something happened.”   
Perrie doesn’t bother going behind the screen to change this time, but she does turn her back on me while stripping down. I can see her pale skin and the freckles on her shoulders. And how her shoulder blades move, how she moves really, how graceful she is. She’s wearing a black bra that makes my gaze automatically drift to her.   
“Well - Louis and I broke up.”   
“Oh,” I say because there’s not much I can say. “I’m sorry?” But I’m not.   
“It’s fine.” Perrie pulls on her shirt smoothly, buttons it. Tugs on a shimmery skirt. “Turns out he’s gay.”   
“Oh.” I think I knew that anyway. “Sorry.”   
“I- I just wish he told me sooner, like -” Perrie’s cut off when her makeup artist, Jesy, comes bustling in.   
“Hey love, let’s get your face dolled up shall we?”   
Perrie’s face closes off but that smile still stays there. I fiddle with the lighting and my camera, trying not to look at her face.   
Snap snap snap. The shutters click on and off.   
Whirr whirr whirr. I take a look at the photos.   
They look perfect. She looks perfect.   
I don’t want them to be black and white because I feel that she is colorful. From her blinding smile to her toes. She’s the rainbow in my world of black and white.   
When I’ve closed the studio and we’re walking on the familiar pavement back to my flat, I take up the courage to ask her. “Is Louis with anybody else now?”   
Her face tightens again. “Harry.”   
Only fools fall for you, only fools fall  
Only fools do what I do, only fools fall  
“Oh.” It’s no secret that Harry and I are very good friends especially after that night at the movies. “Sorry.”   
‘Oh’ and ‘sorry’ are the only things I can say now. How eloquent.   
“It’s fine,” Perrie smiles and grabs my hand. “Froyo?”   
“Froyo,” I agree.   
Maybe we aren’t made to happen. Maybe there isn’t going to be an us. But, she makes me happy, and I think I make her happy, too. And maybe that’s what’s really important. Maybe there will be a story of us. Or maybe it’s just my wishful thinking.   
Because sometimes I find Perrie looking at me the way she looked at Louis. But maybe that’s just my wishful thinking, too.   
When Perrie hands me my usual cup of strawberry, I smile.   
Maybe froyo will be our always.


End file.
